Mr Vicenti was staring straight ahead.

‘Um—’ said Johnny.

‘I can’t help you there,’ said Mr Vicenti. ‘That sort of thing is up to you.’

He must have walked home. He didn’t really remember. But he woke up in bed.

Johnny wondered what the dead did on Sundays. Blackbury on Sundays went through some sort of boredom barrier and out the other side.

Most people did what people traditionally do on Sundays, which was dress up neatly and get in the car and go for family worship at the MegasuperSaver Garden Centre, just outside the town. There was a kind of tide of potted plants that were brought back to get killed off by the central heating in time for next week’s visit.

And the mall was locked up. There wasn’t even anywhere to hang around.

‘The point about being dead in this town,’ said Wobbler, as they mooched along the towpath, ‘is that it’s probably hard to tell the difference.’

‘Did anyone hear the radio last night?’ said Johnny.

No one had. He felt a bit relieved.

‘When I grow up,’ said Wobbler, ‘I’m going to be out of here like a shot. Just you watch. That’s what this place is. It’s a place to come from. It’s not a place to stay.’

‘Where’re you going to go, then?’ said Johnny. ‘There’s a huge big world out there!’ said Wobbler. ‘Mountains! America! Australia! Tons of places!’

‘You told me the other day you’d probably get a job working at your uncle’s place over on the trading estate,’ said Bigmac.

‘Yes . . . well . . . I mean, all those places’ll be there, won’t they, for when I get time to go,’ said Wobbler.

‘I thought you were going to be a big man in computers,’ said Yo-less.

‘I could be. I could be. If I wanted.’

‘If there’s a miracle and you pass Maths and English, you mean,’ said Bigmac.

‘I’m just more practically gifted,’ said Wobbler.

‘You mean you just press keys until something happens.’

‘Well? Often things do happen.’

‘I’m going to join the Army,’ said Bigmac. ‘The SAS.’

‘Huh. The flat feet and the asthma will be a big help there, then,’ said Wobbler. ‘I can just see they’ll want you to limp out and wheeze on terrorists.’

‘I’m pretty certain I want to get a law degree and a medical degree,’ said Yo-less, to keep the peace.

‘That’s good. That way they won’t be able to sue you if you chop the wrong bits off,’ said Bigmac.

No one really lost their temper. This was all part of hanging around.

‘What about you?’ said Wobbler. ‘What do you want to be?’

‘Dunno,’ said Johnny.

‘Didn’t you go to the careers evening last week?’

Johnny nodded. It had been full of Great Futures.

There was a Great Future in retail marketing. There was a Great Future in wholesale distribution. There was a Great Future in the armed forces, although probably not for Bigmac, who’d been allowed to hold a machine gun and had dropped it on his foot. But Johnny couldn’t find a Great Future with any future in it.